Molly tapped her nail against the intricately designed plastic fence separating her tiny disguise from birthday-party central. A rainbow of streamers, the scent of sugary snacks, and the ear-splitting shrieks of delighted children assaulted her senses. “Operation Sugar Rush” radiated potential, but also a distinct sense of unyielding chaos. Beside her, Bill, clad as a giant, inflatable clown, bumped into the helium-filled blue unicorn rented for the occasion. The unicorn toppled, its plastic horn jabbing the air with a pathetic mew. “Think we should have gone for a more subtle disguise?” Bill grumbled, deflating slightly with each exhalation. Molly chuckled. “Subtlety is overrated, Bill. Besides, who’s going to suspect a rogue clown clown of being a master thief?” She popped a plastic tiara off a nearby table, its sequins catching the light. “Besides, look at all these goodies,” she crooned, pulling out a package wrapped in construction paper and haphazardly covered in glue-covered glitter. Bill inhaled deeply, the scent of synthetic strawberry overpowering his own clown scent. “Okay,” he said, agreeing. “This might just work.”